


Side Effects, Insomnia, and Other Excuses

by thatonedudewiththename



Series: Watching Over Each Other, Or Sex in the Watchpoint [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Anal Gaping, Begging, Bottom Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Eventual Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, accidental aphrodisiac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonedudewiththename/pseuds/thatonedudewiththename
Summary: "What are you doing?""Why do you ask?""Because you're making a lot of noise and I'm trying to sleep,""Oh!" Reinhardt smacked his palm to his wide chest in shock, his other hand sliding his glasses back onto his face. "My apologies, Jack! I was not aware that you could hear me! I will do my best to be quieter, rest assured!""Thanks,"Jack didn't move. Neither did Reinhardt. After a second, he asked, "Would you like to see what I'm working on?""Yeah, sure."





	Side Effects, Insomnia, and Other Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> anal gaping is not a tag i ever thought id have to use, but you know how things are

      The punching bag Jack elbowed went flying along the rail it was attached to, slamming into the wall opposite him, splitting the bag and sending a crack spiderwebbing from the point of impact—whoops. "Winston won't be happy about that," He mumbled. Taking down the bag, he huffed and held it under his arm, using his free hand to hang a shirt on the thumbtack above the crack, covering it for the most part. A small nod of approval, he then shuffling towards the closet at the far end of the training room he was trying to tire himself out in, removing a patch from the pack on the top shelf and smacking it over the rip in the punching bag, afterwards tossing it with the others in the pile.  
      It was late, maybe five or six in the morning—Jack hadn't bothered to check the time, at least not in a while. He'd gone to bed immediately after their last mission around one, but had only been able to sleep for roughly an hour before he'd been woken up by a loud bang and then wasn't able to fall back asleep; being as how he was unable to find the source of the noise, he decided to train a little, and that's what he'd been doing for the past—he checked his phone, rolling his eyes at the time—four hours. Ugh. And yet, he still didn't feel tired enough to rest—maybe it was a side effect of all the shit they pumped into him during his super soldier training finally coming to fruition. Regardless, it sucked and all he honestly wanted to do was go to bed, so, sweaty and worn, he walked slowly in the direction of the showers, planning on using all the hot water for himself.  
      He'd taken off all his clothes and had just turned the knob for the hot water when he heard footsteps behind him, somewhat distant, but coming closer. After having been alone for so long, he wasn't as comfortable showering with others as he used to be, but the thought of moving from where he'd sat under the spray of hot water actually made him want to die; instead, he settled his hands in his lap over his crotch, covering it for the most part, tuning his ears to the sound of the footsteps to see if he could decipher who exactly it was that was up this late—early, rather.  
      Hmm... Light steps, almost non-existent, taps of metal on metal. Since Genji made no sound, and there was no one else that had bionic legs besides Hanzo, it had to be him. Jack relaxed his posture and slumped forward, letting his head hang low and sighing inaudibly at the comfort of the water on his skin.  
      A moment later, he heard Hanzo let out a slightly surprised "Oh", then heard him say, "Jack, I was not aware that you were awake."  
      "I wish I wasn't,"  
      An understanding noise, the sound of fabric rustling. "Cannot sleep?"  
      "Yeah,"  
      "Mm,"  
      Hanzo chose the shower next to him, also sitting. Jack glanced over, watching him wet his hair, looking at his tattoo ripple with the muscles under his skin, raising an eyebrow at some of them and how well defined they were; he'd always found Hanzo attractive, at the very least physically, and getting to see him fully naked was kind of nice, in a way. He flitted his eyes up to Hanzo's face, making eye contact with him, as he'd been looking at him, as well. Hanzo's brows were slightly furrowed, a mixture of confusion and... embarrassment, maybe, clouding his features. "Why are you staring at me?" He questioned.  
      Jack turned away, picking up his shampoo. "I was thinking."  
      "And that required you to be looking at me?"  
      "I must've spaced out. Sorry,"  
      Jack began washing his hair in slow movements, hearing Hanzo do the same, finishing a short time after and moving on to body wash; there was silence between them, no sound besides the splattering of water and the rushing pipes, until Hanzo asked, "What were you thinking about?"  
      Jack couldn't come up with a convenient lie, so he said truthfully, "I wasn't thinking of anything. I was just looking at you."  
      A brief pause. "Why?"  
      Jack shrugged. "You happen to be attractive,"  
      "Oh, I see,"  
      More silence. Jack finished with his shower—washing his hair and his body was all he could really find the energy to do—and stood up, reaching to turn the water off when Hanzo said, "Do you happen to know of any good restaurants?"  
      _Clunk_ went the pipes when Jack turned the knob, pivoting to look at him questioningly. "Why do you want to know?"  
      "Jesse and I plan on going to dinner sometime this week, and I would prefer to take him somewhere fairly nice."  
      Jack grumbled a little. "I'm not a very romantic person, so I don't know. You'd be better off asking Doctor Ziegler,"  
      "...I suppose you're right."  
      And the conversation was over. Jack left the shower room feeling rather drained, Hanzo's attempt at surface talk leaving him both kind of uncomfortable and more tired than his workout had. Maybe now he could get some sleep.

      Thankfully, he did end up getting some rest, but only a couple hours' worth—better than nothing, he supposed. His concentration was somewhat lacking during their mission later that day (although it was a simple grab-n-go, he still managed to trip an obvious alarm), but overall there was little effect on his mental state due to that; it didn't appear that anyone else knew of his plight, besides Hanzo of course, as no one brought his mistake up, so when they arrived back at the base and Angela pulled his shuffling frame aside, he was a bit surprised by her words. "Jack, you are aware that I'm a doctor, right?"  
      Jack raised an eyebrow. "...Yes,"  
      "Then why haven't you come to me about your insomnia?"  
      Oh. Scratching the back of his head, he shrugged, "I guess I never really thought about it."  
      Angela was smiling, but her voice was somewhat passive aggressive. "That's always been an issue of yours that I could never cure."  
      She took something out of one of her many little pouches around her waist and handed it to him, patting him gently on the shoulder before gliding after Fareeha, who was waiting for her by the entrance. Jack watched her go for a second, then looked down at what she'd given him: a small, metallic vial, the clear glass on one side revealing a dark blue liquid that seemed to shimmer with the shifting light. The lid read "dosage: one drop", below that saying "trial #1". He snorted a little. "Well, if it kills me, then at least I'll be able to sleep,"  
      Rolling it in his hand, he walked inside the base.

¶

      For the fourth night in a row, he was awoken by a loud bang, only this time, he didn't decide to wait and see if he could fall back asleep.  
      He'd set the vial on his nightstand in preparation for this to happen—he may have been a stubborn jackass, but he always took Angela's advice, even if he didn't want to. That was part of what made her such a good doctor, after all. The dosage said one drop, but not how to administer it, or what side effects it had, and considering it was only a first trial made it even more sketchy; however, he trusted Angela to know whether or not something was safe for human testing, so, without much further thought, he removed the lid and attached dropper from the vial and squeezed a single drop onto his tongue, grimacing almost immediately upon contact—it tasted like shit. Thankfully, the kinda gritty medicine was quickly dissolved, and he twisted the lid back onto the vial and set it back in its spot on the nightstand, swinging his legs back onto the bed and lying down once again.  
      A minute passed, maybe two, of him just lying in wait for something to happen, when he heard that banging noise coming from somewhere close by; he sat up and furrowed his brows—it'd never happened when he was awake before. This was his chance to find out just what exactly it was. The medicine hadn't kicked in yet, and he figured he had some time before he eventually lost consciousness and collapsed wherever he was, so he got out of bed and followed the noise to where he thought he'd heard it originate, the sound shaking his eardrums when it happened once more, from inside of Reinhardt's room. Weird, usually he'd be in bed at this hour, as he preferred to wake up early to "get a jump on the day", so why... Jack knocked on his door, barely getting the chance to pull his hand away before the door flew open, revealing Reinhardt's towering frame on the other side; his long white hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he wore only a pair of boxer briefs and a white tank top, his large hands covered in what appeared to be black ink. He had reading glasses on and a large grin on his face. "Jack! Hello!" He greeted, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses on his shirt, staining it with the ink from his hands as a result—they, too, he wiped on his shirt.  
      "Hey," He said, a small simper lifting the edges of his mouth—Reinhardt's smile always had been contagious. "What are you doing?"  
      "Why do you ask?"  
      "Because you're making a lot of noise and I'm trying to sleep,"  
      "Oh!" Reinhardt smacked his palm to his wide chest in shock, his other hand sliding his glasses back onto his face. "My apologies, Jack! I was not aware that you could hear me! I will do my best to be quieter, rest assured!"  
      "Thanks,"  
      Jack didn't move. Neither did Reinhardt. After a second, he asked, "Would you like to see what I'm working on?"  
      "Yeah, sure."  
      Jack was ushered inside, a bit taken aback by the high ceiling at first, but when he saw that Reinhardt had to duck to swipe the door closed he understood why.  
      The room was decorated like a castle of the olden days and had the same feel as one, a huge bed in one corner fancied up to one that Jack could never imagine having enough money to even sit on, the desk beside it scattered with papers and books in a language he couldn't understand—German, obviously. "Sit, sit! There is plenty of room for you!" Reinhardt said loudly, waving Jack onto his bed, Jack then watching as he spun around and pulled something out from under his desk. "How do you like it?"  
      He held the... item, out to Jack, motioning for him to take it, which he did; it was heavy, seemingly made almost entirely of metal, and appeared to be a sculpture of some sort, though of what he couldn't tell. After examining it for a moment, he asked, "What is it?"  
      Reinhardt didn't respond for a second. "Can you not tell?"  
      "Not really, no,"  
      "It is an eagle! How can you not see it!"  
      Jack looked back down at it and did his best to picture an eagle, starting to see the rough shape of one and nodding a little. "You're right, that's definitely an eagle."  
      The grin Reinhardt broke out into was very handsome, though why that was the first thing Jack thought of when he saw it he didn't know. Giving the sculpture back to him, their hands brushed, and a very jarring shock of electricity raced from the point of contact down his spine like a bolt of lightning, causing him to recoil as though burned; Reinhardt frowned a bit and set the statue aside, reaching out to him in concern, settling one hand on his shoulder, which he had to bend down a little to do. "Jack, are you alright?"  
      Jack couldn't focus on what Reinhardt was saying, only his touch, the feeling of his palm even through his shirt like fire in his veins, burning him up from the inside out—what the fuck was happening? He felt himself start to sweat, gripping the bedsheets to try and calm his suddenly racing heart. Eyes widening, he lifted his head to Reinhardt and questioned, "What'd you say?"  
      Reinhardt removed his hand only to place the back of it to Jack's forehead, frowning even further. "You're hot, Jack, are you ill?"  
      Only the first part registered in Jack's brain and his gut twisted, waves of arousal pooling in his groin like a flood; he shook his head, trying to clear it, but he couldn't concentrate, not when Reinhardt kept touching him, only worsening the heat in his gut. He stood up somewhat shakily, waving Reinhardt's worrying hands away as he said, "I'm fine, 'm fine, I just, need some air."  
      "You can hardly walk! I won't have you going outside in your state!"  
      When he made the move to grab his arm, Jack stumbled backwards into the closet door trying to get away from it, falling against it and dislodging the metal crest that hung above it; Reinhardt yanked him forward just as it fell, pulling him into his embrace, the closeness and scent of his body making Jack's head spin. Each rub of fabric and caress of skin was heightened, and before Jack could stop it, he groaned weakly.  
      Silence. Reinhardt didn't make a move to do anything, the two of them just kind of frozen in time for a moment, until Reinhardt's deep voice rolled into his ears, saying, "This is... enjoyable, for you?"  
      Jack managed to respond past his breathlessness, fighting to keep his hips from grinding against Reinhardt's thigh. "I-I think the medication Angela gave to me, did something to me. Everything... feels o-overwhelming,"  
      "I see," Reinhardt's voice was quiet for the first time in as long as Jack had known him, and then, to his shock, he began to thread his fingers through Jack's hair, dragging his nails along his scalp and lightly tugging. Jack gasped, pressing his body into him and letting out a low moan, gripping his shirt and shifting so that his leg was between his—the contact against his dick was exhilarating and it only made him moan louder. "You're hard," Reinhardt said, voice sounding slightly strained. "I must admit, you feel wonderful against me."  
      Jack began to hump his thigh and bit his lip, a whimper escaping his throat at the heady sensation wracking his nerves, sending him spiralling down the road of no return as he got off on the leg of one of his oldest friends. He felt Reinhardt shudder and looked up; he was staring down at him with heat in his gaze, his hands still on him now gripping his hair and ass, pulling him closer. His breathing was slightly laboured, and as Jack continued to rut against him, he realized why— _he was hard, too._ "R-Reinhardt," He began breathily, pausing to moan, "I need you,"  
      "I would do anything for you, Jack, you know that." Reinhardt responded, and that was all the confirmation Jack needed.  
      He ripped his clothes off as quickly as he could, doing the same to Reinhardt before colliding with him again, muscling him into sitting on the bed and climbing onto his lap. They kissed as Jack rubbed the entirety of the front of his body against his, groaning into his mouth and fisting both hands in his hair once he'd removed the rubber band holding it; he was greedy, fighting for control of Reinhardt's mouth with his tongue, grunting at the feeling of him grabbing his asscheeks and spreading them to reveal his hole. Jack leaned back enough to speak, still moving against him. "You ever fucked a guy before?"  
      Reinhardt's expression was skewed with pleasure, only making his handsome, well aged face even more appealing; the red flush on his cheeks spread as he answered, "Once, b-but I was, much younger then,"  
      "Still remember how?"  
      "I do not think I'll ever forget it."  
      "Good," Jack dragged his open mouth from Reinhardt's lips to his neck, licking it as he finished, "Fuck me."  
      Reinhardt groaned and nodded briskly. "O-of course,"  
      Jack spun around and propped his ass in the air, cheek pressed to the bed covers and hands gripping the fabric on either side of his head; he shivered in anticipation, panting almost, twitching when Reinhardt nudged at his entrance with something warm and wet—a finger, it felt like. It slid in, Jack rocking back on it with hunger, a long moan rumbling out of his chest. "Been... too long..."  
      "You took my finger so easily," Reinhardt breathed, "How badly you must want me."  
      The second finger went in just as easy as the first, the digits spreading his hole wide when they scissored, a third joining them and opening him up even more. It had him whimpering, the knowledge that Reinhardt could see such an intimate part of him causing his dick to dribble onto the sheets; he was so hard, so horny, so unimaginably desperate that his brain could do nothing but make his mouth continuously beg for Reinhardt's cock, for him to fuck him, to pound him into the bed—  
      All thoughts left him when those fingers rammed into his prostate. He cried out and flailed, latching one hand onto the bars of the headboard so hard his knuckles turned white. "Ahh! Fuck!"  
      Reinhardt shuddered, stabbing it again. Jack howled and arched his ass further into the air, eyebrows spooning and hot mouth open wide against his arm—it felt _so fucking good._ "More..." He pushed back. "More Reinhardt! Fuck... _please,"_  
      "You are not..." Reinhardt said in a gruff voice. "Not stretched enough yet."  
      "I d-don't fucking care! Just—"  
      "As you wish, Jack,"  
      Gone were the fingers, Jack's breath hitching at the sensation of the wet tip of Reinhardt's dick pressing to his relaxed hole. Even from just the tip, he could tell it was huge. His cock jerked at the knowledge. As it was pushed inside—excruciatingly slowly, he might add—he keened from the girth of it spreading him wide, his hips rocking back of their own volition to take more of it than he could readily handle. "Oh God! Oh fuck, you're ssoo big, Reinhardt." His words slurred as he spoke.  
      Reinhardt was shaking, Jack hearing his muffled moans behind his closed lips like blood boiling in his veins, reaching behind him in an attempt to get Reinhardt to come closer; Reinhardt shoved his body down flat onto the bed, holding him in place via his hips before he folded one leg up and began to piston into him, the both of them shouting out. Jack lost his grip on the headboard, too overwhelmed to do anything besides sieze hold of the pillow stuck between the head of the bed and the headboard and twist, ripping the fabric where he held it. He tried to buck up into Reinhardt, gain friction on his dick, do anything, but he was held firmly in place, incapable of doing anything besides lie there and allow his body to be ravaged by Reinhardt. His cock was enormous and rubbed everything inside of him, his large, slightly calloused hands rough against the skin of his back; the texture was unbearably arousing, to the point that Jack was overstimulated—he couldn't stop it, though. There was nothing he could do except croon and tremble beneath Reinhardt's overbearing frame, incoherent and unintelligible words spilling from his parted lips like a waterfall, "ass" and "cock" and "harder" being among the most common. Reinhardt was jamming into him as though there was some sort of resistance even though he was completely lubed, the noises he was making so rattling that Jack managed to tell him, "Y-you're so hot Reinh-hardt, t-turning me on so much, I'm gonna come,"  
      "A-as am I..." Reinhardt laid atop him, holding his wrists, panting into his ear as his thrusts slowed to deep, titillating penetrations straight into his prostate. "The way your insides... wrap around me, I-I've never..."  
      Jack's moans pitched in volume, his countenance full of pleasure so acute that he was drooling. Higher and higher, louder and louder, until he came, convulsing, eyes rolling back into his head; his whole being was awash in a blinding orgasm, finding himself incapable of hearing or seeing anything for a couple seconds until he came down a little from the afterglow. When he had, he found himself on his back, staring up at Reinhardt's euphoric face as he came inside him, warm, thick ropes of his cum pumping into his guts in such a way that Jack mewled from the feeling, hearing him moan his name in such a sweet voice—Jack's soft dick twitched weakly, as though trying to get erect once more. It didn't, and Jack felt his eyelids grow heavy, the effects of the medication finally taking hold of him. He curled into the warm, strong embrace of Reinhardt as he drifted off, hearing him say something but not able to register it before he was deeply asleep, the solid state of it allowing him to dream for the first time in what felt like years.

      The sight of his own room is what greeted him when he awoke the next day; he couldn't decipher why that was strange to him until he awoke completely and remembered all that had transpired the night before between him and... Reinhardt. He sighed and sat up, grimacing at the pain in his ass and mentally scolding himself for not allowing Reinhardt to prepare him properly. He stood up and grabbed the vial from his nightstand, looking it over as he scratched the back of his neck: on one hand, he felt more rested than he'd ever felt, ever, but on the other, the side effect was a little... on the extreme side. "Maybe Angela will know something," He mumbled to himself. Rubbing his sore hip, he shuffled out of his room and down the hall towards the infirmary, doing his best not to waddle—he was embarrassed enough as it is.  
      Sure enough, Angela was sitting at her desk, writing something in her holobook whilst simultaneously dropping a viscous liquid into a beaker; Jack knocked on the doorframe before walking in, saying, "Hey,"  
      Angela didn't turn around. "Sleep well last night?"  
      "Yeah, but, there were some... unexpected side effects you didn't warn me about."  
      "I was not aware of any side effects. What were they?"  
      "...Well, it..." Jack shifted his weight, unsure how to go about telling her what exactly had happened without, you know, actually telling her what happened. "You know what an aphrodisiac does? It was like that,"  
      Angela flipped back a few pages in her holobook and began to write. "Heightened libido... is that all?"  
      "It made me a lot more sensitive to... everything."  
      She made an understanding noise. "Acute nerve sensitivity... anything else?"  
      Jack thought a moment, then shook his head. "No,"  
      "Alright then. I'll get back to you once I rework the formula. For now, you can keep the trial sample, I have others in storage."  
      "Thanks, Angela,"  
      "No problem at all."  
      And with that, Jack left, heading back to his room so he could get dressed.  
      When he passed Reinhardt's room, he stopped, contemplated knocking and maybe talking about what happened, but when he heard shuffling inside he kicked into motion and started walking away, anxiety forcing him into an almost sprint. He didn't get very far, though, before the door opened and Reinhardt saw him walk away. "Jack! There you are, my friend!" He called, an almost shy simper brightening his face.  
      Jack screeched to a stop and swore under his breath, turning around to look at him. "Reinhardt," He said, fisting and unfisting his hands.  
      "I've been looking for you!"  
      Reinhardt stopped in front of Jack, his hands fidgeting where they were clasped in front of him. His blue eye was soft, the other injured one feeling like it was staring into his soul; rough face sweet, he said, "How did you sleep? I hope you are not too terribly sore!"  
      Jack shook his head, smiling a little in spite of his discomfort at the situation—the morning after was always the hardest for him. However, he couldn't find it in himself to be cold to Reinhardt, especially not when he looked so obviously flustered. "No, I'm alright. Not the first time I've woken up sore."  
      "I'm sure,"  
      God—Jack knew that Reinhardt was too much of a romantic for one-night stands. The loving expression he wore was only evidence of that. Rubbing at his roughly stubbled cheek, he sighed, "Reinhardt, you know that, what happened last night doesn't mean I'm in love with you, right?"  
      Reinhardt's countenance didn't change. "I am aware, yes. As the years have worn on, I've come to realize that sex and love are divided, and thinking them one in the same will only result in heartache for a humble lover like myself."  
      Laughing lightly, Jack shifted his weight, crossed his arms. "I didn't expect you to take that so easily,"  
      "Contrary to popular belief, my friend, I am not as sensitive as people make me out to be. After all, I'm a warrior, and a German one, at that!!"  
      "I suppose you're right,"  
      Reinhardt settled his hand on Jack's shoulder, then cradled his face and back of his neck in the other, bringing his face up to his as he bent down; Jack took the kiss with slight eagerness, knowing how good of a kisser Reinhardt was and enjoying it thoroughly. It lasted only a few seconds though, leaving Jack's gut twisting in eagerness, hungry for more. Reinhardt's tongue stuck out a little when he pulled back, his eyebrows dipping somewhat, his smile more ardorous than previously. "If you ever need me, for anything, you know where to find me, friend."  
      "Yeah," Jack swallowed thickly, darting his eyes from Reinhardt's eyes to the wall beside them and back again. "I'll remember that,"  
      Patting him on the head, Reinhardt turned and headed down the hallway, in the opposite direction of where Jack had come, leaving Jack to stand there, winded and kind of confused.  
      Maybe... the side effects of the medication, weren't so bad after all.


End file.
